euCliDeaN sPacE

After finishing the black tea she started to travel rapidly inside the abyss to find the entails of her words with the overt help of little materialistic angels. Their cheeks were viciously wet by the kisses of her words. A didactic story, holding their pink fingers, their pink fingers holding her pinky finger, smelling their unruffled hair, staring at their impeccant eyes are the hobbies of the story. Her virgin nipples were in urge to feed milk to them. The intensity of words are not yet ready to vex the world of her and changing the position of her intransigent hair. Traveling inside the abstruse dark is similar as holding the hands of a male sadist. She wont to show a plastic smile to him and continue in her way. A professional actress inside her half heart tried to have coitus with her story and to change the position of words. The cruel tongue of that actress has been controlled by her calculated breathe to avoid instant affections and the story fluffed her bloody commercial truths. Sometimes, her words are constructed by the lens of Kurosawa, sanctity colors of Van Gogh, penetrating euphony of Paganini, choler of Manto, blood of  a vampire, noise of a silence. Any stories has its own attitude to fly from one heart to another, the beats of words which are totally covered up with strong teeth of an unknown reclusive animal skin, sweet feminine sweat smell inside the nails of story. Her crystal tears for a female death has not yet dried in her pillow. Bloody Daughter! Her hidden truths were lost and questing minds were flown away from me. Wasted blood, that was the last words I heard from her. Mad doubts are always on her couch to accept the claps of thunder heads, mad heads, frozen smiley faces. She is my dear daughter, my kisses to her, she can’t accept my expired kisses. The counted days which were cauterized in her live smokey stories that have written from the light of disgraceful sun. One day the sun could burn those stories slowly without her presence. Her book, ‘The easy ways to commit suicide’ have been successfully staying in best seller. She is my dear pain, her skeleton body grinning at me, its shuddery, as her father I am an aesthetic insane, stay close. She drew a blank to whimper, her hard work vaporized to bring rain in my land with obnubilated wet stories, the stories are against the conversation of  phallocentric society. Decisive lines in the story are for her to accept in an versus mode, but it is determining the leading causes of charlie’s time. Alleles are the easiest problem in her room to chain the words to create another and other another.

She wrote the last line somewhere in her mind, “Our fragile answers would be suspend in to a dramatic silence. Lets not wait”.

This entry was posted in Ambiguity, Structuralism and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to euCliDeaN sPacE

  1. Crina says:

    Is a subtle text, if my perceive is correct, regarding the possible source of your inspiration. …Hope i understood correctly :))

  2. chipmunk says:

    i dont know yet whether this is a love letter or a hate poem

  3. Rama says:

    Tried interchangeable words to my lovely daughter without perturbing the context. The chosen noun is one of the noun, not yet over. I felt a failure in the estimation!?

  4. chipmunk says:

    or simply in the expectation

  5. Rama says:

    Dull expectation, but a strong impression of mine.

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